


Normal people, normal problems

by sickshameless



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Colds, Cuddles, Fluff, Food Poisoning, Gallavich, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sickfic, Slice of Life, Sprains, hand holding, theyre so in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-12 18:09:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29888508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sickshameless/pseuds/sickshameless
Summary: Ian and Mickey have their own place, and can finally live a normal life. But being normal people means dealing with normal people problems.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 4
Kudos: 108





	Normal people, normal problems

**Author's Note:**

> I love them

Burns

Ian likes to cook, especially for Mickey. It’s nice to have his own kitchen after years of sharing in the Gallagher house, and he’s been experimenting with more homemade recipes rather than the frozen dinners the two of them used to live off of. Tonight, he carefully crafted a homemade pizza, now just waiting for the timer on the oven to go off. Ian is excited when it beeps, so excited that he reaches in the oven with no mitt, hissing when his hand meets the hot pan. 

“Fuck!” Ian yelps, snatching his arm back out of the oven as if it betrayed him. 

“What happened?” Mickey calls from the living room, quickly getting up and walking to the kitchen. “The fuck did you do?”

“I forgot an oven mitt. Burned myself,” Ian grumbles, holding his hand out for Mickey to inspect. 

Mickey sighs, grabbing his hand gently and looking it over. “Alright, hold on.”

He instructs Ian to run it under cold water, going to grab their tiny first aid kit out of the medicine cabinet in the bathroom. Mickey comes back a minute later, and Ian sits down at the table to let him deal with it. Mickey puts some of the burn ointment on his hand, which they thankfully have, and wraps his hand up in gauze for it to heal. 

“Should be good as new in a few days. Don’t go sticking your bare hands in the oven anymore, Chef Gallagher,” Mickey reminds, smirking at him. 

Ian grabs Mickey by the waist with his good hand, pulling him closer. “It won’t be a problem with you around to fix it up, Nurse Milkovich.”

They both laugh, continuing to tease each other while Ian takes dinner out of the oven, this time with an oven mitt. Although, he’d burn his hand over and over again if it meant Mickey got to fix him up. 

Migraines

“You gonna be okay, babe?” Ian asks gently, sitting on the edge of the bed. 

Mickey just groans, feeling too dizzy to even shake his head no. “Just come here,” he whispers quietly. 

Mickey had woken up earlier that day feeling under the weather, though it was just a slight headache. However, as the day progressed, it slowly turned into a full blown migraine. Before long, he was tucked up in bed with the lights out and the blinds shut, his eyes closed tightly as he tries to just relax. Ian isn’t sure how he can help, sitting on the edge of the bed and rubbing up and down Mickey’s back. Upon his request, Ian lays down next to Mickey, pressing his chest against Mickey’s back. 

“I’ve got you,” Ian whispers, gently petting his hair. 

“Hate this,” Mickey mumbles, his eyes shut. “Feel fucking nauseous.” 

“I’m sorry,” Ian coos softly, kissing the back of Mickey’s neck. “Try and sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Ian holds Mickey tight, one hand still stroking his hair and the other one resting on his stomach. He sighs thankfully when he hears Mickey’s breaths even out after awhile. Years of sleeping next to him lets Ian know when he’s asleep, a skill that he’s happy to have. He keeps Mickey close to his chest, not planning on letting go anytime soon. 

Sprains

It had been a total accident. Mopping just wasn’t really Ian’s thing. Things were going perfectly fine until he’d turned around the wrong way and slipped, using his wrist to support his body weight. He tried to ignore it most of the day, though he winced when he put any pressure on it and it was steadily becoming more swollen throughout the day. It was when Mickey came home and they started making out that it became very hard to ignore, and Ian, mortified, promptly burst into tears. 

“Ian, what the hell? What happened?” Mickey frowns, kind of freaked out. 

“It’s nothing,” Ian insisted tearily, utterly embarrassed. “I’m being a baby and it’s stupid.”

“It’s clearly not stupid if it’s bothering you this much,” Mickey promises, wiping his tears. 

“I just- I think I hurt my wrist earlier,” Ian sniffles, holding out his wrist. 

Mickey’s eyes go wide at how swollen it is, and he wonders how he didn’t notice earlier. “Jesus, you think? How did that happen? We should go get it looked at.”

“I fell,” Ian mumbles miserably, though he giggles softly when he realizes how ridiculous he sounds. “I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it.”

Mickey kisses him gently, already pulling his jacket on so they can leave. “You are an idiot. Always tell me these things, okay?”

“Okay,” Ian smiles softly, following him out. 

After their trip to the urgent care, they find out that it’s just a sprain. Thankfully, it should heal in just a few days. They wrap Ian’s wrist in an ace bandage and send him on his way, not before showing Mickey how to properly rewrap it when it needs to be. Mickey is glad that Ian is okay, and deep down, was worried. Now though, he wastes no time teasing Ian about how he slipped, and by the end of the night, Ian is laughing over it too. 

Razor nicks

Ian is laying in bed as he waits for Mickey, his husband still shaving in the bathroom. It’s quiet, almost too quiet. Growing up with all of his siblings, Ian was never really used to quiet, and sometimes it freaks him out a little. He’s learning to enjoy the peacefulness of it though, but it’s soon interrupted by a hiss from the bathroom, followed by some good old Milkovich profanity. 

“Shit,” Mickey whines, groaning loudly. 

“What’s the matter?” Ian calls. “Cut yourself or something?”

“Yes,” Mickey answers quietly after a moment. 

Ian had just been teasing, but finds it endearing that Mickey is so bashful about it. He gets out of bed and goes into the bathroom, grinning when he sees Mickey holding a piece of toilet paper to his face. He gently peels it away, looking at the tiny cut. 

“You’d think being in your twenties and all, you’d know how to shave without cutting yourself,” Ian chuckles, kissing the top of Mickey’s head. “I think we have some of those tiny little bandaids, that’ll do it.”

“Shut up,” Mickey grumbles, arms crossed stubbornly. “It happens to everyone.”

“You’re right, you’re right. Let’s just deal with this so we can get to bed, please,” Ian smiles sweetly. 

Mickey rolls his eyes, but stays still for him, scrunching his face up out of habit when he feels the bandaid. He gets up, following Ian back to their room for bed. He curls up to Ian’s chest, happy to be in the arms of his boyfriend once more. 

“Guess you’re the nurse now, huh?” Mickey murmurs, his eyes falling closed. 

“Guess so,” Ian smiles, dropping another kiss to his forehead. “Night, Mick.”

Stomachaches 

As an adult, Ian tended to be fairly healthy. He ate things that were good for him and kept active, wanting to make sure he treated his body well. That’s why he had a feeling his stomach would play up after he and Mickey got greasy burgers and fries for lunch. He doesn’t normally eat fast food, so he was expecting to be at least a little uncomfortable later. What he wasn’t expecting was food poisoning. He had Mickey pull over on the way home so he could puke, and since Mickey felt fine and it came on so fast, they decided it had to be that. Currently, Ian is laying on his side in bed, a pillow clutched against his middle. 

“I have water for you, I’ll just leave it on the table,” Mickey murmurs, putting it on his nightstand. “Do you need anything else?”

Ian shakes his head, just wanting to be held. “You be the big spoon,” he mumbles, glancing up at Mickey. 

“Things will be easier if you turn onto your back,” Mickey coaxes gently, laying down next to him. 

Ian whines softly, turning onto his back and moving the pillow. He groans when his stomach cramps up as the light pressure was taken away, and he looks over at Mickey. “Rub my tummy?” He requests, batting his eyelashes. 

“I was planning on it,” Mickey promises, kissing Ian’s cheek. 

He gently starts to rub circles against Ian’s belly, hoping to make the ache just a little more bearable. Ian sighs softly, relaxing a little at the gentle touch. He doesn’t know anyone else that could take care of him as well as Mickey does, and he knows he’s extremely lucky. 

“Thanks for staying with me even when I’m gross and puking,” Ian yawns softly, nuzzling into Mickey’s neck. 

“I wouldn’t do it for anyone else, so I guess you’re lucky,” Mickey teases, kissing his cheek tenderly. 

They lay there together, Ian trying to relax and Mickey gently hushing him with soft words and gentle touches when he winces with pain. It takes awhile, but Ian eventually falls asleep in Mickey’s arms, snoring quietly. Mickey just holds him, closing his eyes and dozing off himself. 

Colds

“Call me adorable one more time and see what happens,” Mickey growls. 

“But you are!” Ian coos, handing him another tissue. 

It’s nearing spring, the weather finally starting to warm up after a long winter. Unfortunately, Mickey’s immune system does not seem to appreciate the fast weather change, and he’s wound up with a spring cold. Ian isn’t surprised- the weather went from a high of 30° to being in the 50s seemingly overnight. He finds Mickey’s bright red nose and bleary eyes nothing but cute, and he’ll continue to say it even if it’s not very appreciated. 

“Good to know you enjoy seeing me suffer, you sadist,” Mickey grumbles, aggressively rubbing his nose with the tissue. 

“Mick, you have to be more gentle, that’s why your nose is all red and sore,” Ian chuckles, getting up when he hears the kettle whistling from the kitchen. “I made you tea. It’ll help your sore throat. We can have soup for dinner too.”

“Yay, a bunch of hot liquid all day long,” Mickey scowls stubbornly, even though he secretly appreciates what Ian’s doing. 

Ian rolls his eyes, coming back and handing him the mug. “You like tea and soup. Someone’s extra grumpy when they’re not feeling well.”

Mickey takes a long sip of the tea, and Ian can tell he enjoys it. “I’m allowed to be grumpy if I feel like shit,” he murmurs, sniffling softly to try and clear his nose. 

“You need to just relax,” Ian tells him, leaning against the arm of the couch. 

He pulls Mickey to lay back against his front, gently rubbing over his chest. He can hear Mickey’s wheezy breaths, the older man coughing every so often. Ian holds him while Mickey drinks his tea, his other hand resting on the top of his head. 

“Sorry I was being a jerk,” Mickey tells Ian after awhile. “You’re right. I do like soup and tea. I just felt like being difficult.”

“Oh yeah? I guess you were right too, you’re allowed to be grumpy when you feel like shit,” Ian smiles, gently poking Mickey’s nose. 

“My throat hurts like a motherfucker and my head feels all heavy,” Mickey complains, finally letting his head drop back against Ian’s shoulder. 

Ian takes his empty mug away, carefully putting it on the floor. “I’m sorry you feel so shitty. I love you,” he reminds. “You just relax. I’ll be right here.”

“I love you...” Mickey repeats, his voice sounding congested. “Thanks for being here.”

“Always,” Ian promises. 

He holds Mickey, running his fingertips over his chest and stomach. Ian hopes Mickey feels better soon, although he is rather endearing while sick. It’s okay though. No matter how many times Mickey gets a cold, Ian will be there. Always.


End file.
